


Walking Each Other Home

by Xela



Series: Feels Like Home [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Deepthroating, Depression, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Language, Falling In Love, Family Feels, Frottage, Healing, Human Experimentation, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stormpilot, Touching, Trolling, Trolling Poe Dameron, implied future Poe Dameron/Finn/Rey, leia is a troll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-08 18:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5509295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xela/pseuds/Xela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The First Order, cut off from the Empire’s endless supply of clones and given the relative expense of actually raising their cannon fodder from childhood, has been <i>experimenting.</i></p><p>“His name is Finn,” Poe says, voice quiet. “He is a <i>person,</i> not a medical mystery for you to solve. So get your shit together, figure out how to help him, and then <i>wake him up.</i>”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Finn spends three months in a medically induced coma because no one knows what the fuck is going on with him. The First Order, cut off from the Empire’s endless supply of clones and given the relative expense of actually raising their cannon fodder from childhood, has been _experimenting._

It’s 80% why Finn survived a _light saber to the spine_ and 100% why the med droids, doctors, and specialists are worried about waking him up. What if he’s a walking, talking bomb?

Poe tucks himself in a corner and watches. Steals copies of all the scans, reads all the notes, overhears all the arguments and discussions and theoretical discourse. He simmers in his corner, his anger a slow-burning fuse, until the rages blooms within him.

“His name is Finn,” he says, voice quiet. The lethal rage inside him slices thru the room and silences it, startled eyes turning to him. “He is a _person,_ not a medical mystery for you to solve. So get your shit together, figure out how to help him, and then _wake him up._ ”

There’s a moment of silence and then the room descends into organized chaos. Poe senses someone watching him and looks over quick enough to catch the tail end of General Organa’s approving smirk.

***

Finn wakes up and goes right back to sleep.

He wakes up again, blinks at the night nurse who had banished Poe for at least 5 hours to sleep in his own bed and, for the love of everyone, shower, and goes right back to sleep.

He wakes up a third time when Poe’s napping in the chair beside his bed, chin against his chest, because the Hero of the Resistance isn’t going to wake up alone again, evil nurses be damned. BB-8 rams into Poe’s ankle with an insistent whistle, causing Poe to flail about to stop himself from falling to the floor. He looks up, right into dark, hooded eyes.

“Rey’s off finding mythical Jedi knights in the deepest parts of space,” Poe offers, because ‘hi’ is beyond him and he can see the answer to “how do you feel?” is “not dead, but it’s a close thing.”

“But she’s ok?” Finn asks, voice strained and so worried.

“Better than you,” Poe points out, and Finn scowls. “Also, way better than you at fighting. _She_ managed to not get light sabered in the back.” Finn makes a face and Poe gently helps him take a few sips of water. BB-8 starts asking questions about Designation:Poe’s-Finn and his repair status. (Which what? NO, BB-8, do not call Finn that in public! Change his Designation immediately!) 

“S’at BB-8?” Finn mumbles, already sliding back towards sleep. The little droid beeps merrily from underneath the bed and Poe, heaving a long-suffering sigh, rigs up a chair and ramp so they can see each other. He’s mystified when the little ball of circuits and attitude sticks its butane torch out at Finn. Finn falls back asleep in the middle of a laugh. 

***

Finn has some kind of computer structure affixed to his brain. It’s partially organic, has been growing with him since the First Order got their hands on him, but the extent of what it does is unknown. It did not blow up when they woke Finn up (or when he first deserted, Poe had pointed out), though his room is currently shielded from all communication signals.

They do know, however, that part of it regulates certain hormones and chemicals in the body, and has likely been used as a means of controlling Finn’s moods and, to a certain extent, his actions. A team of Rebellion programmers and coders are in the process of analyzing and cracking the underlying programming language, but it’s dense, and weirdly unique and they can’t actually test anything out on Finn because it might kill him. They have isolated the part of the implant that controls the endocrine system and have rudimentary control over it.

So Finn has several options: monitor the device but leave it alone and live his life as is; let it be until they can gather more information; try to turn off each bio-chemical control system one by one, using their best educated guesses to minimize fall out; or…turn off the endocrine regulation completely. 

“Turn it off,” Finn says instantly, lips pressed together and nails biting into his palm. 

“Sir. _Finn,_ ” the Doctor M’Benga amends at Poe’s sharp look, “we have no idea what that might do. Your hormone levels might be wildly out of sync. You’ll likely experience violent mood swings, depression, manic episodes…a rather unpleasant pseudo-puberty. It could put a great deal of stress on your body, and while you’ve made a frankly impressive physical recovery—”

“Turn it off.” Poe lets Finn fight his own battles, make his own choices and stand by them, but he’s glaring glacially when M’Benga glances his way.

“Alright. We’ll set everything up and do this today. No sense in waiting.” They leave Finn sitting propped up in his hospital bed while doctors and nurses start lining increasingly vicious looking tools on a tray by the bed, including a long, big ass needle that Finn stares at with wide, wide eyes.

The doctors don’t seem to realize the kid’s fucking terrified, so Poe waits until they’re all huddled over their tablets, ignoring the very patient they’re talking so intently about, to ease Finn’s hands open and give him someone else to hold on to.

\---

The ‘surgery’ goes perfectly. It’s gotta be a trap, right?

They numb Finn’s head, shave a stripe through his hair, use a small, directed laser to bore a minute hole through his skull, and stick the Big Fucking Needle into Finn’s brain. The needle actually turns into a small, flexible wire that connects the implant to a computer. There’s a burst of excited chatter and technobabble that Poe only follows some of, partly because he’s only really interested in the systems of things that go very fast, mostly because Finn’s still very much awake and aware, sitting rigidly in his bed, both hands clutching Poe’s and breath barely in control. His grip has moved from Poe’s hands to his forearms, which is probably good for Poe’s fingers.

“Hey,” Poe says, voice pitched low and soothing. Finn glances at him, then back to the programmers, who have synced a second computer to the first. “Hey. I ever tell you about the first time I ever flew? It was on a dare. To impress a girl.”

“You crash?” Finn breathes, his attention shifting desperately to Poe. 

“I didn’t crash, I fell with style.”

He regales Finn with his most embarrassing stories—and there are a lot of them, he hasn’t always been the Best Pilot in the Galaxy™. (Or the best at making decisions, though that’s certainly debatable.) But he’s thankful for every single choice he’s made, because they’ve all led to this moment: Finn’s brain wired to a computer, a solid dozen of the galaxy’s best medical professionals falling over themselves at the _mystery_ of the empire’s latest bit of ethical shadiness, and Finn ignoring them all in favor of giving Poe a wide grin, trying to stay still and not laugh.

The moment breaks when Finn gives a gasp, goes rigid, and slumps over. 

“It’s done,” a doctor says, checking Finn’s vitals with calm competence before sealing the surgical wound; they leave the thin wire coiled just underneath Finn’s skin. It leaves a strange bump but won’t pose any risk to him, and they can access the implant if something goes wrong, or they want to work on turning it off completely. 

Finn crashes immediately after, possibly experiencing his first natural sleep in years.

Poe sleeps in his own bed that night, running the pads of his fingers over the sensitive bruises on his wrists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may be trash and not know what the hell I'm doing, but I know where this story is going so there's that, at least. (And yes, I am exactly the kind of fandom troll that slips random Trek characters into Wars.)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leia is the Best.

Finn’s got nanites!

A million-million little nanites in his blood, guided by his implant. There’s a reservoir of them hanging out in the structure itself, in ‘sleep’ mode until Finn gets injured, and then they swarm out and start repairing the damage, mimicking the natural healing process. But there’s a certain number of them running around his body constantly making minor improvements, repairing muscle, bruises, the wear-and-tear of everyday life. Overall, they make Finn a little faster and a little stronger than he has any right to be; with _proper_ training, he’s going to be deadly. 

The nanites draw power from Finn’s kinetic movement and build with materials found in the body. They’re self-repairing and self-replicating. The doctors give Finn shots full of nutrients and iron, and a few days after they wake him up he’s got fresh keloid scars over what by all rights should have been a life-changing, if not life-ending, injury. (He still has to do physiotherapy, which sucks bantha ovum, because the nanties repair but they don’t tone or condition or train muscle; but it’s lightyears ahead of what anyone expected.)

Luckily, the tiny bots aren’t really hackable without directly pugging into them, so as long as Finn steers clear of the First Order, he’s not in any risk of suddenly turning into a killing machine, or getting memory wiped. The lead programmer—a guy who introduces himself as “Phreak. You know. Of the Zero Cool collective, man?” And no, neither of them know, but Poe appreciates how Phreak treats Finn like a person who deserves to know what happening to him—is writing a program that will hopefully protect Finn from ‘reprogramming’ even if he does get captured by the First Order. (Maybe even introduce a virus to their computers if they try, which worries Poe because he’s a tactician who sees the value in allowing Finn to get caught for that purpose alone, and everything in him hates that idea with the power of a thousand Starkillers.)

Finn agrees to let them give him a small cut to examine the nanite’s process and effectiveness.

Poe watches blanked-face as the blood swells up on Finn’s arm. Finn’s sitting in front of a scanner, as still as possible so the scientists get a clear reading. The blood drips down and onto the clean white sheets and Poe concentrates on his breathing, in and out, nice and steady. There’s a mess of memories hurling themselves against his mental vault, but he stays rooted firmly in the present.

Once he divorces himself from the swell of emotion, it’s kind of cool to watch the screen as the golden dots that represent the microbots swarm thru Finn to the wound site. By the end of the day, Finn’s arm is almost completely healed, the scar looking older by the hour. They estimate there will be no evidence of it by the end of the week.

Curiously, not even a heightened healing factor makes Poe feel less worried about Finn.

\---

Finn’s got brain damage!

“It’s fascinating,” Dr. Kalonia says, showing them brain scans that neither of them know how to interpret. “It could just be a natural occurring phenomenon in your brain. A quirk of genetics. Most likely you experienced some form of brain trauma when you were very young—possibly before the First Order found you—and your brain was elastic enough to compensate for the damaged areas by, essentially, rerouting the process to an unused portion of the brain. So the implant’s overall effectiveness was reduced. You are, in a sense, partially immune to it. Since one of its primary purposes is to suppress empathy and increase suggestiveness, I’d say you’re very lucky. You’re one in a million, Mr.—Finn.”

Finn takes the news with the cheerful good grace that Poe can’t believe the First Order didn’t drum out of him, mind-controlling implant or not. Finn’s resilience is a beautiful, precious thing.

“I was supposed to be an officer,” Finn says sometime later, after Kalonia has left and the infirmary settles into its quiet nighttime hum. Finn’s brain scan with its tiny, deceptively dark spot glows on the screen.

“How’s that, buddy?”

“Phasma. Was starting me on the Officer track. But I…” Finn shakes his head, his lips pressing together before he looks at Poe with a wide, bright smile, “It’s a good thing I found a hell of a pilot, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” Poe says, feeling something slow and warm bloom in his chest. “And I’m real glad you needed one.”

***

Finn’s mostly exhausted in the days post-surgery, but no one knows if that’s because his back’s still healing, they turned off his regulatory system, or some combination of both. It becomes a fairly moot point about three days after the surgery when Finn slips into a deep depression. He curls on his side facing the wall, pulls the covers over his head, and won’t be moved for anything. They end up having to run an IV line into his arm for nourishment, but somehow Poe doesn’t realize the extent of what’s happening until he shows up with lunch one day and Finn’s gone.

“He has been moved to Close Observation,” a med-droid tells him. Poe stumbles into the hallway. In Poe’s experience, Close Observation is code for suicide watch. How had it gotten that bad?

He sets up vigil outside of Finn’s room, which is made of a boring dull beige material that feels like foam. There are hundreds of sensors embedded everywhere allowing for real time readings of everything Finn. There are two nurses and a droid keeping an eye on the three people right now. One of the nurses sits next to Poe and explains what’s going on with Finn: his brain isn’t producing a lot of the regulatory chemicals it should on its own, and they want to give it the chance to do so on its own without resorting to external aid if possible. These include all the ones that keep humans from feeling pain when, for example, they sit still in a cockpit for extended periods of time. So while Finn isn’t actively suicidal (thank the Force, though it would be negligent for them not to keep an eye on it), the infirmary cots are hard for Finn to bear and the observation rooms are the easiest place for him.

Poe’s allowed inside to visit with Finn as long as he adheres to protocol. Finn sleeps through most of his visits. Doesn’t feel like talking. Looks at Poe with bleary, watery eyes before letting them slide shut again. 

It’s not too long before Poe’s strained the good will of Command, who have given him a lot of leeway post-Starkiller. General Organa delivers his Orders herself, to really underscore that it’s time to remember he’s an officer in a military fleet who has Responsibilities. 

“I know I’ve been remiss, ma’am,” he starts, awkward and unsure for the first time in his life because the Resistance has been his life for as long as he can remember. He was conceived on the eve of battle, born into the fight, and never imagined anything else. This is the first time in his life he’s shirked his duties. For an ex-stormtrooper he’s spent more time with asleep than awake.

The General, whom he’s known his entire life, just smirks at him.

“No apologies, kid. But I’ve let you get away with this long enough. Time to stop using Finn to run away from your own problems.”

“I’m not—“ She gives him this Look that reminds him of his mother and shuts him right up.

“I didn’t say you weren’t helping. It’s good that Finn knows he has support. But when was the last time you slept in a real bed? For more than a couple of hours?” He presses his lips together because his off-again/off-again relationship with sleep is none of her business unless it affects his ability to fly, and it never does. (Almost as if Leia senses that thought, she levels him with another Look, and Poe is reminded of how much they blur the line of subordinate and General.)

“You know, it’s different for everyone. The way they get into your head—the Sith dig at old wounds, open old scars. Prod at your doubts and weaknesses. Do you know how hard it is to function on a military base when the faintest whiff of soldered metal makes you relive losing your whole ship?” Poe knows the stories of how Han and Leia and Luke fractured the Empire, but the stories feel like myth. Legends. Except legends don’t wear that worn, haunted look when remembering the crews that sacrificed themselves so you could survive. “Han and I rebuilt the entire lounge of the Falcon by hand. Rewired it too. It took an entire month, and I spent the first week remembering how to breathe in a corner and the second figuring out how to function with the kind of terror that turns your muscles to stone. Still happens sometimes.” Poe stares at her and stares some more and can’t quite wrap his mind around anything she’s saying. Leia looks at him and a small smirk twists the corner of her mouth up.

“Report at 0700 tomorrow, Commander. We’ll keep your jacket and your stray safe enough. And get some sleep.”

“Ma’am, yes ma’am!” Poe says, snapping to attention and saluting her with all the cockiness in him. 

“You know,” Leia says, and Poe is pretty sure she’s laughing at him despite the even, unamused look she’s shooting him, “kid doesn’t have a family name yet.”

By the time Poe puzzles out what _that_ means, she’s almost disappeared down the hall.

“That is not a tradition of my people!” he yells after her. Her low, hoarse laughter floats back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I knew what I was doing, but I'm not so sure anymore. I have no idea why I decided to write the angstiest story in the Fandom of Light and Joy.
> 
> Up next: I'm done making Finn sad!
> 
> Today's random popculture reference comes courtesy of Hackers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry new year.

Poe’s had some bumpy rides in his lifetime. He’s done the Kessel Run (duh); lost an engine halfway thru reentering atmo and still landed that sucker; took out Starkiller Base, and wasn’t that looking dismal for a good while there? 

He should appreciate the mundaneness of Intel gathering and patrolling, but all in all, he really likes the bumpy rides. Less time to think. One could argue that Poe seeks out bumpy rides, and has been known to create them from time to time.

Pathfinder Squadron—the Resistance’s Intelligence gathering squad who likes to borrow Poe partly for his piloting skills, mostly for his ability to make friends in shady places—is out for three and a half weeks, trying to find out where the First Order is regrouping, checking in on their allies now that the Republic’s been decentralized, picking up supplies and drinking in bars. Wait, that last one is actually called “cultivating intelligence assets.”

The end result is: no one knows where the First Order is; the Republic is not doing well; they’ll have caf for at least two weeks; and Poe can still get away with never buying his own drinks. Also, they return to find base in the middle of a three-day party, which is awesome, but why?

“Poe!” He turns into a full body attack hug.

“Finn?” He pushes Finn far enough away to see his bright smile and healthy complexion. “Finn! Buddy! You look great!” He does. He’s put the weight he lost back on, he’s bright and _present_ , and he’s wearing Poe’s jacket. It looks really good on him. Poe congratulates himself, again, on giving it away.

Finn steps back and looks…almost bashful. 

“What’s going on around here?” Poe asks, after the silence has stretched between them.

“Oh. Rey’s back! And she brought Luke Skywalker!” That is worthy of celebration, though Poe suspects it’s also a really convenient way for Command to increase morale while they figure out how to go forward without the Republic’s backing. Still, a party’s a party, and Poe’s never been one to pass up a party. He gives _great_ party.

“Well, what are we standing around here for? We have to celebrate your recovery too!” Poe throws his arm around Finn’s shoulder. That same bashful look flits across Finn’s face before being obliterated by his grin.

BB-8 beeps at them, deeply unimpressed at being ignored for so long.

“Hey!” Finn says, kneeling down to pet the droid. “Thanks for taking care of Poe, and I’m glad you’re back.” BB-8 twirls in circles to demonstrate his happiness, twittering with joy. 

_”Designation:Finns-Poe!”_ BB-8 beeps and Poe is really, really glad Finn probably didn’t learn to speech Mech in the last three weeks. _”Scans of Designation:Poes-Finn indicate that optimal repairs have been completed. You may commence Operation:Sexy-Timez.”_

“Where do you get this stuff, buddy?” Poe asks, torn between laughing and being moderately embarrassed. (The fact that he’s contemplating any kind of embarrassment speaks to how much Finn means to him, since he usually doesn’t bother with it.)

BB-8 starts listing the entirety of Yellow Squadron, which explains a lot.

“Right, well, don’t listen to them. You—“ 

BB-8 makes an inarticulate screech of pure happiness and streaks off as fast as his ball can roll, beeping, _“Designation:♥REY♥!”_

Poe had only talked Rey briefly before she left, and mostly about her adventures with Finn, but he’s been well aware that she’s surpassed him in BB-8’s affection for a while. Which is fine, BB-8 may have been downgraded rather abruptly himself at some particular point in the past.

Rey’s wearing a wide grin herself as she approaches them. Probably because BB-8 is telling Rey all about Operation:Sexy-Timez, complete with utterly inaccurate names. BB-8 is definitely repeating their designations far more than he needs to. Traitor.

“Welcome back,” Rey says, offering him her hand.

“I’m kind of regretting everything right now,” Poe says wryly, shaking her hand firmly. He gets the feeling Rey’s not one for casual touching, so he treats the gesture with the respect it deserves.

“Oh, well, if it’ll help, I’m happy to tell you all about the question Finn’s been asking since he—“

“Rey!” Finn elbows her aside, and Poe swears he might be blushing underneath his dark skin. 

“Come on,” Poe says, slinging an arm around Finn’s shoulders and gesturing Rey to precede them. “Let’s get some booze and you can catch me up on what I missed!”

They don’t get the chance. Finn’s popular. Legitimately, undeniably popular. 

Most of the ground crew they pass greet him with familiarity. He knows a lot of their names, which Poe’s terrible about, and he’s worked with some of them for years. But it’s the pilots that really get him. They all clearly know Finn, and Finn knows them back.

al'Thor, leader of Green Squadron and a pilot Poe has always found kind of unbearable (really, buddy, there are a lot of people who have multiple partners on base, no one cares that you have three girlfriends), offers Finn a beer and a high five as soon as they make it into the Pilot’s Lounge. He deigns to nod at Poe and looks like he might briefly hit on Rey before she shuts that down with a look. He wanders back to his squad, and it’s hands down the most affable interaction Poe’s ever had with the man. 

It’s like that as Finn leads them through the lounge, saying hi to everyone and unerringly guiding them to where Poe’s Squadrons have camped out. Blue and Red are involved in a cheerful competitive drinking game, and both sides greet Finn like he’s one of them. Poe feels a little like he might already be drunk.

Drinks are poured, backs are slapped, Jess gives him an enthusiastic kiss hello, as is their custom, and leaves a smear of lipstick on his lips. Poe checks his reflection and congratulates Jess on the color; it suits him. A large black tanker gets passed around, and everyone pours in a splash. Snap retrieves it and tops it off with whatever awful bathtub booze he’s drinking.

“To Poe Dameron!” Snap yells, and everyone within earshot raises their glasses and lets out an “Oh-RAH!” Poe salutes them all and downs the tanker in good spirit. It’s supremely foul, and very alcoholic, but that’s part of the ritual too.

His people sit him down and start on the very important task of getting him smashed. Finn shoves Jess aside so he can sit next to Poe. Rey settles in on his other side; she doesn’t have to shove anyone. 

The pilots have been educating Finn on How The Universe Works. (They explain things to Finn like it’s second nature whenever he looks confused, or when they make some reference they think he might not understand. They end up on a very long tangent about Oikumene and the practicalities of a socio-economic system built entirely upon favors. Finn has a pad on which he takes _notes._ ) Apparently being a Stormtrooper doesn’t come with a lot of socialization, nor a variety of life experiences. Most of what Finn knows about interacting with other people comes from Rey (who, well, that’s kind of like the C student telling the F student how to get an A, right?) and the odd holovid the First Order deemed suitable for young stormtrooper minds. 

The result is, Finn now knows a lot of drinking games. He’s pretty good at them, and seems invested in making Poe drink as much as possible. (Rey is too good and gets relegated to permanent referee, but not before doing some serious damage to Finn’s equilibrium.) 

Poe leans back in his chair, a wide grin on his face. 

It’s incredible what’s changed in a few weeks.

\---

They stumble down the hall, full of good cheer, the party winding down behind them.

“Drinking songs!” Poe announces, scraping against the wall. “We’re teaching you drinking songs. Tomorrow. Today? Later. There will be singing.”

“Okay,” Finn says, and his teeth are so white. They are good teeth, Poe decides. Strong and solid. Very Finn. BB-8 whirrs and says something that Poe can’t quite follow.

“Beebs! Your’re the best.” He turns to Finn. “Beeb-8’s the _best_ , y’know? Brought. Brought m’jacket back. ‘n you were in it!”

Finn laughs at him and they stumble into Poe’s room. It’s not much, but he doesn’t have a roommate, which can count for a lot on a military base. His holoframe flickers on and pictures of home start cycling thru. Oh, look, one of his cousins had another baby, he should probably go home soon and see them.

“Wanna go home with me?” he asks Finn.

“You are home,” Finn replies with the patience of the very sober. He slides Poe’s new jacket off his shoulders. It would look good on Finn.

“No. Well yes. But no.” 

“Go to bed, Poe Dameron,” Finn says softly. “We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“K.” Poe curls up on the bed, close against the wall, because maybe Finn needs a bed, too. Can’t sleep in a biobed forever.

“I’ve got quarters, I’m bunking with Rey,” Finn says, and he’s laughing. What’s the joke? Poe wants to know the joke, so he can tell it to Finn and make him laugh again.

“See you tomorrow,” Finn says, and Poe falls asleep.

***

The world is beautiful and it hates him.

Poe’s not big on alcohol as a sleep aid, but he doesn’t wake up until almost 1500 the next day. He probably slept through the worst of his hangover, but what’s left ain’t pretty.

He staggers into the mess, which is serving post-party food, bless, and downs the strongest cup of caf he can find. Around his third he just takes the pot with him to a table in the corner where Snap is trying to shovel hash browns into his mouth without taking his head off the tabletop.

“You are evil and deserve everything that’s happening to you,” Poe tells him.

“Shhhhh. ‘s too loud.” Poe scoffs and steals some of Snap’s food. He’s got a mountain on his plate and is not in any condition to eat all of it. For every couple of bites Poe manages to keep down, Snap opens his mouth and Poe obligingly dumps a spoonful in.

“Poe! How are you feeling?” Snap moans and hides his head in the crook of his elbow. Poe feels a little queasy at Rey’s enthusiastic backslap and, yep, she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Had worse,” he says, and can’t help but think of the headache that plagued him for days after Kylo Ren took a run at him. Rey must catch the train of his thoughts because she suddenly looks sympathetic and no, none of that now. Poe grins at her and winks; he’ll gladly pay the price for his revelry. She nods to him, oddly grave, and Poe can do nothing but nod back.

“Poe, good to see—oh no, do you need to go to the infirmary?” 

“Nice to see you too, Finn,” Poe says dryly, and can’t help but laugh at the look of panic on Finn’s face. “Relax, it’s just a hangover. And very, very awful hangover, but I’ll survive. Probably.”

“Allaya shut up,” Snap moans.

“Snap might not.” Finn still looks concerned, and unsure if Poe’s joking or not. He’s hovering, so Poe shoves the seat next to him out in invitation. “Take a load off, soldier. Tell me what I’ve missed.”

Snap groans and sinks down in his chair until he’s slithered underneath the table where it’s dark and quieter. 

“Oh. Well. Rey’s going to be a Jedi.”

“No shit?” Poe says. Rey shrugs and blushes at the top of the table. “You’ll be a great Jedi. Best ever. What about you, though?”

“Well, it took a while for my brain to start, uh, braining,” Finn says. “And I’m not completely stable. Sometimes…” Finn shrugs and Poe gets it. There’s an entire lounge set aside just for diurnal people whose _sometimes_ turn night into a minefield. Poe’s probably spent more time there than anyone else.

“Might never be,” Finn adds quietly.

“Look at you, fitting right in with the rest of us,” Poe says, totally sincere. Finn searches him for something and seems to find it because he graces Poe with that dazzling smile that makes Poe feel like he’s fifteen again, giddy at the very idea of being wanted. (Granted, if he really wants to recreate being fifteen, Rey would need to be interested too, and…right. Right.)

“You really should have been here when the hormones kicked in though,” Rey says. Finn groans and buries his face in his hands.

“Oh yeah? Please, tell me everything.”

“You weren’t even here!” Finn says. Rey shrugs like that’s a moot point. “It was awful. I can’t imagine going through that younger. And my face was covered in spots, and it’s like my body had a mind of its own. It’s awful.”

“He _popped up woods_ in front of General Organa and the War Council.” Poe doesn’t know whether to laugh at the idea of Finn—poor innocent, utterly mortified Finn—getting an unexpected erection in front of Leia or the carefully incorrect way Rey uses slang that’s obviously foreign to her.

“It’s wood. You pop wood. Bi-penile species have their own set of euphemisms.” 

“Well, Finn and his _wood_ just kept going with his presentation.”

“I didn’t know what was happening!” Finn protests. “I’ve never…”

“I imagine First Order high command would be a hell of a boner killer,” Poe jokes. And…nope, he missed something, judging by the looks they’re giving him. “Wait. Wait. Like… _never_? Never ever?” Finn shrugs, looking uncomfortable.

“There were a few people who did, I guess. They got sent for reprogramming. We didn’t talk about it. Any of it. And it was considered a distraction. Inefficient. And I never felt…compelled. Like that. Before Phreak turned off the implant. And now it’s just, it’s _constant_ and I don’t know how you live this way.” Finn looks comically dismayed, and Rey is clearly laughing at him. "Everyone here is so _attractive._ And I didn't know what to do."

“Please tell me you talked to actual medical professionals about this and not the pilots,” Poe says, horrified. The pilots teach BB-8 things like “sexy timez" (with a z!); there’s no telling what they’d say to a couple of innocent beings like Finn and Rey.

“We both did,” Rey says, with the blitheness of someone raised with no internalized shame about sex. Hell, there probably weren’t a lot of options on Jakku. And she’s young. They’re both young, but Rey is only 19. “The pilots told him some things, so we went and asked the doctors and Counselor Klendathu if they were true. All the pilots got called in for remedial sex education and sensitivity training.” She gives Poe a patented Leia smile, bland and even, and oh dear Force, there are two of them.

“You are an absolute treasure, Rey,” Poe says sincerely, and she grins, wide and unfettered. These two do a lot of grinning and Poe can’t help but respond every damn time.

“We’ve kind of maxed out on what the doctors can tell us, but if we ask you questions, you won’t lie to us. Right, Poe?” Rey says, and Poe realizes he walked into a trap without ever noticing it.

“Oh for Force sake—get a room!” Snap yells from underneath the table where they’ve completely forgotten about him. “Go be gross away from the food.” It’s a pretty effective mood ruiner, so they get up for a change of scenery. He kicks Snap in the ribs as a parting gift. 

Rey’s laughing at him; Finn looks like he wants the floor to swallow him, Poe can’t even with today, and they almost run over Luke Skywalker exiting the mess. Poe’s initially very confused about who this short, bearded man is, flanked by General Orgnana and General Antilles and exuding an air of extreme calm.

“Master Skywalker! You remember Finn, and this is Commander Poe Dameron, best pilot in the fleet,” Rey says. And whoa. Whoa, he’s meeting _Luke Skywalker,_ who looks him over, looks _into_ him, and fixes Rey with a faintly exasperated look.

“Are all of your friends Force sensitive?”

“What?” Poe blurts. 

“Pilots,” Luke says on a sigh, “it’s always pilots.” General Antilles laughs and pushes Luke forward into the mess.

“Wait, what?” Poe says to Leia.

“Did I forget to tell you?” she asks, her false, lying face blank. She reaches out and adjusts his uniform. “And you thought you were just that good.”

Force _damn it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leia is the best troll, she has a list entitled Things That Make Me Happy, and #1 is "Trolling Poe Dameron." Rey's taking all the notes, Finn's just trying to get thru puberty, and Luke's remembering why he moved to an island in the middle of nowhere. Also <3 Wedge <3
> 
> This was supposed to be over, but JUST KIDDING, there will be one more chapter after this! This chapter got long, so I split it in two as it is the reason this doc is saved as "Trashy Trash" on my computer.
> 
> Next up: Execute Operation:Sexy-Timez, Poe.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poe goes home to Commence: Operation:Sexy-Timez

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went to the porn place. There is porn done by Finn and Poe.
> 
> Sorry about the delay, I got sick on the 1st, which then caused a chronic illness to rear it's annoying head, but here, it's done now! :)

Maybe there’s some truth to Poe being Force sensitive, because he’s going home to Yavin 4. Technically, he’s escorting Jedi Grandmaster Luke Skywalker and his Apprentice Rey to take part in an ancient Jedi ritual that appears to boil down to “touch the Force-sensitive tree Poe’s parents planted thirty years ago and _be one_ with it.” (Poe’s got a prurient interest in this exercise, because that Tree has _seen some things_ , if you catch his meaning.)

Luke insists it’s some kind of proving trial for Rey, but no one’s buying that. Leia seems pretty sure Luke wants to get away from the weight of being the Savior of the Resistance. And for all they’d been in the middle of a war, Yavin 4 holds good memories for them. 

All Poe can think is that he’s going home for the first time in…almost eight years.

He’s got a few half-siblings (they’re all half-siblings to one another; Poe comes by his charisma honestly, but no one has burned as bright or as steadily as Shara Bey did for Kes Dameron) that he’s not super close to, but they’re family, and he’s always glad to see them. And he gets to take Finn, who’s just excited to visit a new planet, to explore new environments and people. Rey’s questions all revolve around water and greenery and wrapping her mind around the concept of a “jungle.” 

They all pile into the Falcon (still. so. cool.) and head off. There’s a handful of other Resistance personnel with them, ranging from those Luke requisitioned for the trip to people on leave whose travel takes them to or past the moon. 

Poe spends the cramped trip regaling Finn and Rey with stories about growing up in an ever-expanding colony when they’re not all learning how to fight with light sabers.

***

Yavin 4 is lush and bountiful moon around a red gas giant, comprised mostly of jungle sprawling over tall mountains, and lush valleys that give way to verdant plains. There’s one small sea, but numerous small rivers and streams in the forest.

His parents built their dream home near the Massassi Temple, which the old Rebel Alliance once made their headquarters. Most of the colonists—though truly, Yavin 4 has well outgrown the colonization stage at this point, it’s a large settlement verging on city—have ties to the Alliance and Resistance, and the place holds a kind of reverence for a lot of them.

Both Finn and Rey are taken with the place, Rey with the greenery and the humidity, Finn with the uniqueness of the temple and the culture. The first thing they do is race one another up the steps of the temple; Poe declines, because he did that run enough times at a teen that he never wants to run steps again. He walks with Luke, and they find the other two on the top landing laughing and panting.

It’s been years since he stepped foot in the temple, and Poe spends hours showing Finn and Rey all the best places; high up towers, hidden nooks and make-out corners. It’s still a popular hideout for teens, but they only stumble across one couple, who stare at them with huge eyes and then take off in a mad dash. One of them left their shirt behind. There’s a beat of silence and then the three of themselves are falling over each other laughing. 

Eventually they end up at the very top of the temple, which offers a panoramic view of the valley.

“That’s home,” Poe says, pointing at the closest, sprawling compound. It’s been expanded from its humble beginnings, rising up three stories, the top two made mostly of glass. People simply refer to it as “The Bey,” and it’s not unusual for his father to host Council meetings, or other community gatherings.

“Then you should go there,” Luke says, dry as dust. “Rey and I have work to do.” Rey sighs, and Poe accepts the dismissal for what it is. 

“Now I really do feel like a teenager,” Poe grumbles.

“You get banished from the temple a lot?” Finn asks, a bit too sly. “Caught kissing and sent home?” 

“Caught? Never. The trick,” Poe says, throwing an arm around Finn’s shoulder, “is to pick a back room so you can hear other people getting busted first and run.” 

\---

Poe’s had many a homecoming, but this one feels different, and it has everything to do with the man following him up the path. He wants to show Finn everything: his childhood bedroom; the small window nook where he spent hours pouring over technical manuals; the wall where he and his mother had carved their names, then the date of the first time she took him up in an X-Wing, and every other important milestone they passed together after that (so many left off after she died, but this is not the time for regrets); his family, the entire extended, blended, chaotic crew of them. 

Starting, it seems, with his father, who’s sitting outside in a rocker.

His father is older. That shouldn’t surprise Poe as much as it does, but Kes Dameron is larger than life in his memories. He’s gone steel grey and put on some weight, which he wears well. He greets Poe with a genuinely pleased look and a gentle hug that belies the strength in his arms.

“Well met, and much loved, my son.” His voice rumbles like a thunderstorm and Poe holds on tightly.

“Well loved and joyously met, pops.” He could probably spend the whole trip standing here hugging his father but that would be rude, so he reluctantly pulls away. “This is Finn. He saved my life.”

“Kes Dameron. You will ever find a welcome home here, son.” They shake hands, Finn looking a bit stunned and unsure.

“Thank you, sir. But I really didn’t do much.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t take much,” Kes says, shrugging, a soldier to the core. “Now come. Your sisters are here, and all of the aunts and uncles. There will be a Revel tonight.”

Revel is a settlement-wide party held around the Tree; everyone is invited (and everyone who’s able attends), the price of admission being something edible or potable. Poe’s family always comes together to make “Dameron Smash,” a rich gumbo of rice, beans, vegetables and spiced meats. It’s always one of the centerpieces of Revels and Poe has missed it fiercely. (He eats three bowls _before_ the party, even though he started hurting half way through the second.)

The Bey is a household of barely restrained chaos on a quiet day; today, it feels like a party in and of itself. Poe gets beset by family the second he steps through the door. Aunts and Uncles kiss his cheeks, slap his back, and tell him he’s too skinny; nieces, nephews, and various cousins hug his legs and give his arms a workout. His oldest sister, Sha’re, hands him a small child and a plate of tapas, and his hands are never empty from that point on.

Someone says the magic words, “Finn? Finn, you are much too thin!” and Finn disappears for hours. Poe eventually finds him surrounded by cousins, shelling Corellian peas into a basket for cooking as the Family passes judgment on Poe’s twenty-year-old cousin Mary’s current boyfriend. They seem to have very negative opinions on one Thomas J. Newton, an Anthean man recently come to the colony. Guileless Finn is their best weapon, asking wide-eyed and innocent questions about their relationship that underscores how lacking it is. Poe’s family will never let Finn go based on that alone.

“He’s adorable,” Sha’re says, sidling up to him. She trades his crumb-filled plate with another one filled high with food. He won’t fit into his X-Wing soon. “Auntie Em has already tried to set Mary up with him; says he’ll treat her right and throw pretty babies.” 

“He probably would. He’s…good,” Poe settles on. “Genuinely good. You don’t even know how incredible that is.”

“I live in this universe too, Poe-dunk. Worse, I have _kids_ in this universe.”

“I noticed. They’re horrible and they smell.” She thumps him on the shoulder and one of those kids rushes up to her in tears and she’s gone again.

\---

If Poe eats anything else, he’s going to spontaneously explode, so he sets out to make himself useful. Everyone in the family contributes to the Smash in someway. Some are outside at the long grill that needs no less than 4 cooks to run, grilling the meat to perfection. There are people making the stock base, others chopping, shelling and mincing ingredients, and the littlest children are tasked with keeping the various used dishes, pots and pans clean for the next person who needs them. 

Poe’s favorite thing to help with is cooking the rice. It takes at least two people to do it right, and they usually have three manning a giant scooped wok over a low, open flame. They use long, flat paddles to constantly move the rice around the pan so it cooks just right without getting burned. They’re making a lot of rice, and it’s a repetitive, constant motion, but it’s meditative and soothing. The Elders of the family tend to sit around to watch and gossip about the old days. Poe’s always liked listening to the stories of their lives.

Eventually, after the third batch of rice has been started, Poe escapes from the noise and heat to the relative calm of the garden. He discovers his father teaching Finn the finer points of grilling. 

He settles in one of the lounge chairs with a beer and watches Finn flip sausages and steaks with the same kind of attention he gives studying Mech, or piloting, or how to take down the First Order. Poe’s inordinately pleased to see Finn getting along with his father, though there’s no reason they wouldn’t.

Poe falls asleep in the afternoon sun, a small smile on his face and a feeling of peace in his heart.

\---

The Tree seems to glow in the disappearing sunlight, surrounded by its people coming together in celebration. The atmosphere is jubilant, the shrieks of delighted children combining with the low voices of adults. People drop off food, spread blankets and towels on the ground, and set up low guide lights in the clearing. Children play tag with the Tree as base; they weave between indulgent adults, jump over its roots, climb up into its branches. The colony’s teens—and those ‘tweens who are trying to transition into more Adult Responsibility—are tasked with hauling and setting up the large community tables to the Tree.

Most of the Resistance personnel have flocks of natives around them; the settlement is still small enough that new people are a novelty. Even Luke Skywalker is finding it difficult to remain aloof in the face of such joy, though he eventually removes himself to perch on a large Tree root, away from the press of people.

Poe uses his reputation amongst the teens to snag an early plate and takes it over to Luke, who gives him a relieved, thankful look.

“It’s something else, isn’t it?” Poe asks, looking up at the Tree. He remembers his parents planting two small saplings when he was five. They’ve grown incredibly fast in the intervening years, twining together as they stretch up towards the sky; Poe’d easily guess a few hundred years, if he hadn’t been there for the first planting. “Never thought it’d get this big when I was small.”

“It feeds off the people here,” Luke says.

“It…what?”

“Every person is part of the Force, whether they can feel it or not. These gatherings, when everyone comes together at the tree in joy, connection and community? All of it feeds the Tree. Its size and vibrancy speak entirely to the wealth of the people here.” 

“Huh.” Poe reaches out and touches the Tree. For once, he doesn’t write off the hum he feels beneath his hand as his overactive imagination. Just lets himself feel, reach out, and a sense of happy contentment washes over him. He’s not sure how long he stays there, basking in the feeling of home, but when he pulls back and opens his eyes, Luke has finished his food and settled back against the tree, people watching.

“It’s always the pilots,” Luke says, attention still directed outwards.

“Right. I’m going to go before you try to convince me I should be a Jedi,” Poe says, backing slowly away.

“You’re no Jedi,” Luke says, and it sounds approving.

\---

Dinner is served right before sunset. Sunsets on Yavin 4 are, in a word, incredible. The sky turns a riot of red-hues before fading into the purple-tinged black of night.

“Sunset doesn’t look like this on Jakku,” Rey says, eyes riveted to the sky. Finn keeps passing her her plate, and she’ll eat a couple bites before getting distracted by the colors.

“This is the 74th one I’ve seen,” Finn replies. 

Poe’s heart aches for them both, but there’s also joy knowing they get to experience so much for the first time, fresh and new. They don’t take things like this for granted, and Poe doesn’t either when they’re around.

As night settles in, people pull out their instruments and play music together. There’s a lot of dancing, a highlight of which is Rey teaching them a particularly athletic dance from Jakku that she swears looks even more impressive with sand flying around you; Poe thinks the whole thing is comprised of cleverly disguised martial katas. 

One of Poe’s young cousins, who can’t even be 12, pulls a protesting Finn into a circle dance. Poe declines to save him and is treated to the sight of Finn learning to dance for the first time. He’s a stumbling mess with two left feet and a penchant for bumping into people, but his eyes are bright and his smile filled with delight. Rey eventually pulls him into a fast waltz that sweeps over the whole of the dance floor, the two of them lit by firelight and giggling like children.

The biggest surprise of the night occurs when Luke comes down from his throne to perform part of a traditional Karuki dance. The movements are fluid and exact; no muscle or motion uncontrolled in any way. Poe has a hard time describing just what he saw, how it came together, but no one moves an inch while watching Luke Skywalker perform once of the hardest, most complicated dances in the ‘verse. Until a particularly precocious six-year-old breaks free from hir father and starts trying to copy Luke’s movements, and the applause is deafening. He obliges hir, demonstrating more simplistic forms, though even those require precise physical mastery.

It’s an amazing night, all in all. Rey and Finn use him as home base, drifting back to him before darting away to explore whatever caught his attention. At one point, he’s watching a few of the colony teens slip away towards the temple when Finn nudges him with an indulgent, knowing eye.

“You wanna go embarrass some kids?” Poe asks. 

“Nah,” Finn says after considering it for a moment, “let them have their fun.”

\---

It’s gotta be three, four in the morning when Finn finds him, a little sweaty and a little buzzed. The party is still going strong, and will well into the next day. 

“This party is amazing,” Finn sighs, sprawling next to Poe.

“Yep. Ain’t no party like a Yavin 4 party.”

“Better than the ones on D’Qar.”

“Do not let the pilots hear that—they’ll take it as a challenge.” Finn laughs and budges a little closer to Poe. They both watch Rey, on the other side of the clearing, where someone’s trying to teach her how to play a lyre. It doesn’t appear to be going well.

Finn nudges him, and Poe turns to find him looking expectant.

“What’s up, buddy?”

“Walk me home?”

“Sure.” They help each other up. Poe arches his back and stretches, stiff from sitting on the ground for so long. He glances up and catches Rey’s eye; she looks pointedly from him, to Finn, and back, then wiggles her eyebrows and suddenly he’s fighting down a swell of nerves. 

She must sense it because she laughs at him and throws him a jaunty salute.

“Poe?” Finn looks a bit confused, so Poe claps a friendly hand on his shoulder and grins.

“Let’s boogie.” 

They head towards the house, shoulder to shoulder.

\---

Poe’s room is on the top floor of the Bey, overlooking the lush valley and the Temple. There’s not much in the way of stuff; Poe has never been a ‘stuff’ kind of guy. There’s thick, plush carpeting on the floors, hand built ship models and technical manuals on the walls, and a large recessed bed up against the far exterior window. 

Poe stands right at the edge of the bed and looks to where the Tree lights up the night. He can just make out the flickering shadows of dancers, their laughter floating faintly on the breeze. Otherwise, the house is quiet, the smell of cooked food still heavy on the air.

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” Finn says, coming to stand beside him. “People keep talking about their families, and where they come from, and now I think I understand.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Poe says, forcing it to sound light and easy. “What’s mine is yours. And you deserve all the best things in the world.”

“Yeah?” Finn swallows nervously then leans in and kisses him. A dry press of lips and a flash of tongue, then he’s pulling away and barely meeting Poe’s eyes, just a flick of a glance there-and-away.

“Wow,” Poe finally manages, and maybe it’s this place or maybe it’s just Finn, but he really does feel like a teenager right now, sweaty hands and racing heart included. (Better skin and control though, for which he is very thankful.) Finn ducks his head and rubs a hand across the back of it.

“I know it’s probably not—“ Poe cuts him off by tilting Finn’s face up and giving Finn what he’s pretty sure is his second kiss. He deepens it, slowly, letting Finn explore and encouraging him to do so. It’s not long before Finn’s fingers are twined in his hair, pulling just a tad too hard, and his other hand has a death grip on Poe’s belt loops, and Poe needs to take a breather before he _really_ starts acting like he’s 15 and incapable of not coming in his pants.

“So I’ve never done this before,” Finn says. “I’ve only really _wanted_ to for a little while now, and it can be very confusing sometimes because it’s like it happens for no reason, or for any reason, and it’s overwhelming, but it doesn’t feel that way with _you_ , and I’m supposed to tell you it’s the first time, according to Jess and Rey and medical so. Um. Yeah.” If Poe needed to rekindle his commitment to bringing down the First Order, this would do it. To see what they’ve robbed Finn of, what they’re currently taking from others… But that has no place here, and now. He’s got a Mission and he always gets his man.

“Hey,” Poe says, smoothing the pads of his thumbs over Finn’s lips. “It’s fine. That’s fine. You’re fine. Everything’s…”

“Fine?” Finn suggests.

“Gorgeous,” Poe responds, and kisses Finn again. “Now, how comprehensive was your talk with medical?” Poe takes off his shirt and congratulates himself when Finn just kind of stares and forgets to answer the question for a while.

“It…very.” The hunger in Finn’s eyes when he finally drags them back up to Poe’s face is utterly gratifying.

“Yeah?” Poe unbuckles his belt and flicks the button open. “So we know all about saying yes and—“

“I really, completely, enthusiastically consent to this,” Finn says, riveted to where Poe’s hook his thumbs into his belt loops so his hands just oh-so-casually frame his oh-so-casually-interested crotch.

“This?” Poe asks, flexing his fingers. “Or…this?” He slowly drags the material apart so the zipper starts an agonizing journey downwards.

“I do not consent to teasing,” Finn says, and Poe laughs, delighted.

“You’re still fully clothed and talking to me about teasing?” Finn looks down at himself, then up to Poe with surprise. 

The speed with which he strips out of all of his clothes is genuinely startling. It’s possible Finn used the Force to help.

“Well?” Finn says, hands on his hips and looking pointedly at Poe’s pants. He has no body consciousness at all, which is fair; Finn’s a beautiful man in possession of a beautiful body, and by all accounts grew up in a giant dorm setting.

“Are you sure Rey’s the Jedi? Because that was one hell of a magic trick.”

“Are you stalling?” And damn. Finn’s got his number, because that’s a _challenge_ and Poe absolutely does not back down from challenges.

Poe rolls his hips in a well-practiced move that has been described as ‘obscene’ on four different planets and in one federation, in that his trousers seem to just fall off of him like it’s an insult they were covering his body in the first place. He’s wearing a pair of close-fitting black trunk underwear with sheer, see-through mesh on the sides. Tantalizing whilst still leaving Finn something to unwrap and discover for himself. (What, he plans for the best future possible at all times, ok?)

He steps back onto the bed, and sinks to his knees, spreading them wide for balance and beckoning Finn closer. Finn stumbles forward on autopilot, wide-eyed and very turned on, stopping just in front of Poe.

Poe starts at Finn’s ankles and drags his hands lightly up the outside of Finn’s legs, to his waist, and Finn shudders at the touch. (It occurs to Poe that it’s possible _no one_ has ever touched him in certain places, in certain ways—so tonight will be a lot of firsts for Finn. It’s going to be the _best_ night of firsts in the history of firsts.) He follows that touch with his tongue, starting halfway down Finn’s thigh and dragging his lips up the muscle, nips at Finn’s hipbone, then over the ridges of his abs as high as Poe can reach. Finn’s there to meet him, bending over to kiss his lips.

“Hold on,” Poe warns him, encouraging Finn to widen his stance with a smirk, “and don’t fall down.” He’s got a good grasp of Finn’s very fine, very firm ass, so that’s not going to happen, but it’ll be helpful if Fin keeps his footing.

“Oh _Force,_ ” Finn says, worshipful, and Poe feels a visceral sense of _power_ at the sound. Is this the first time Finn’s voice has sounded like that? Finn probably still knows the number of erections he’s ever had, he’s so new at just knowing himself, and now he’s sharing that with Poe, letting Poe share that with him. 

And Poe is going to share everything with Finn, starting with his favorite party trick. (He makes a note to tell Finn that “party trick” on Yavin 4 has a VERY DIFFERENT meaning in light of the inhabitant’s predilections for Temple shenanigans on Revel nights than the rest of the ‘verse.) 

Finn actually shouts and probably pulls out a few of Poe’s hairs when Poe deep throats him. It had taken him months of very enthusiastic practice when he was a 17-year-od flyboy to develop this particular skill, and he’s never been more delighted in it as this very moment. Finn’s chanting his name, increasingly frantic, and Poe pulls back for a second to look up at him.

“So your little doohickey gives you a pretty short refractory period, right?”

“That’s, uh. What they tell me?”

“Well. Let’s take it for a test flight.” Finn barely manages to nod before Poe’s back on him, running through every trick in his considerable arsenal. Poor Finn, doesn’t stand a chance, and his legs do go a little wonky there at the end, but Poe’s ready for him and manages to guide them down to the bed without anyone getting hurt.

“Wow,” Finn says, hand pressed to his head and eye staring sightlessly at the ceiling. “That was… _wow._ I didn’t. It’s so much _better_ with someone else! How is that possible?” Poe laughs and kisses the skin above Finn’s racing heart, lets his hands wander over Finn’s body. 

Finn comes back to himself, blinking, and pulls Poe down into a very passionate kiss. They make out for a while, just bodies pressed together, but it’s not long before Finn’s touches grow bolder and more demanding until he just rolls Poe onto his back so he can see what he’s doing.

“Here,” Poe says, and pulls Finn over until he’s straddling Poe’s body, sitting on the top of Poe’s thighs. Poe tucks his arms behind his head and lets Finn explore to his heart’s content. 

Finn starts with petting, following the contours of Poe’s muscles, tracing the scars and blemishes Poe’s gathered over his life. For all his experience, Poe has never had a lover who just wanted to explore like this. Who put so much stock in simple touch, much of it not overtly sexual but nonetheless weighted with the force of Finn’s desire. 

His arousal grows in slow increments until he’s panting lightly, a thin sheen of sweat making him glisten in the low light. Finn runs his fingers over the seam of Poe’s underwear, slipping beneath the elastic and pulling before retreating.

“Finn,” he pleads, voice low and rough. Finn sits back and suddenly looks a little bit unsure. Poe reaches out and strokes down Finn’s chest. “Hey. What’s up?”

“I’m not…sure what to do?”

“Well. We have a lot of options. But first, let me get these off.” Finn slides off to the side. Poe arches up on the bed and shimmies out of his pants, leaving himself bare and aching. Finn stares at his cock like a man starving.

“Now. I can stay where I am and come on your chest. It’s a very nice chest.” Poe gives himself a leisurely stroke and plays up his moan for Finn’s benefit. He reaches down and cups Finn between his legs, pressing _just right._ “I can push your legs together and slide right through here, fuck until you’re hard again and we both come. Or…” He stretches next to Finn, who is half hard again already, bless his tiny nanites. He strokes Finn until he’s fully hard, licking at the shell of his ear, kissing down his neck, and Finn seems to enjoy both of those things, turning the tables and copying the motions on Poe. 

Poe throws a leg across Finn’s hips, lines their cocks up and wraps his hand around them so they’re pressed together, then rolls his hips and tightens his fingers.

Finn yells something inarticulate, fucking up into Poe’s grip, tendons in his neck standing out.

“And we have a winner. Pause for ten.” He levers himself up so he can open the cabinet over the bed that’s stocked with all the necessities one might need—including Poe’s favorite lube. Finn seems to have figured out how to capitalize on a moment because he takes the opportunity presented to cover Poe’s nipple with his mouth and suck.

Force-fucking-damn, the mouth on this man.

“You, ah. You keep that up I’m going to get distracted,” Poe warns.

“I thought pilots were trained to deal with distractions,” Finn says, smiling impishly up at him. He sticks his tongue out and drags the flat of it from one nipple to the other.

“Not you,” Poe says. The smile takes a turn for the tender and they meet in a gentle kiss. Poe somehow manages to blindly find the lube and fumble open the cap.

“Let me?” Finn asks, and who is Poe to deny someone? He dumps a good dollop on Finn’s hand and throws his head back the first time Finn touches him. Them. Pressed together tight.

Finn’s not a practiced, deft hand, but this is _Finn._ Poe’s keyed up enough by that fact alone that it doesn’t matter. And, as in most things, Finn is a quick study. Somewhere along the line, he learned to read Poe enough to adjust what he’s doing until he’s driving Poe out of his mind. He finds their rhythm, their hips moving lazily together. Poe holds himself over Finn, their legs tangled together, alternating his gaze between Finn’s face and the hand he has wrapped around them. 

Poe nuzzles the side of Finn’s face, encourages him to tilt his head to the side, then sinks his teeth into the meat of Finn’s neck. Finn yells and bucks, desperate, so Poe moves a little further down on the muscle and does it again.

“Poe!” Finn gasps, a warning and plea both. He’s apparently hit the limit of his ability to function coherently, hands desperately clutching at Poe’s sides.

“Yeah. I got you.” He hikes Finn’s leg up high on his rib cage, reaches between them and takes over. He sets a faster, harder pace than Finn had, but they’re both racing the end now. 

It doesn’t take long for Finn to go crashing over the edge. Poe holds back so he can watch Finn come, and it’s amazing. He looks almost surprised by it, like he can’t quite comprehend what’s happening but it’s _fantastic._ Poe strokes him through the last shudder, until Finn looks like he can’t decide if this hurts or feels good.

And then he can’t ignore his own arousal, insistent and heavy. He touches himself in the way he knows will get him off fast and hard, and he’s almost there when Finn reaches down and cups Poe’s balls, a tentative touch but firm enough to send Poe in a tailspin of his own. 

Poe face plants on the pillow next to Finn, panting, and lets the world spin away. 

Finn starts laughing. It starts out as an uncontrollable giggle and blooms into a deep belly laugh. It’s as infectious as his grin, and soon Poe’s laughing as well, though his sounds a little bit more…stunned than Finn’s. 

“Let’s do that again,” Finn gasps between giddy little chuckles. Poe rolls onto his side, propping up his head to look a Finn. “I want to do that again. A lot.”

“Yeah, buddy. We can do that as many times as you want,” Poe agrees. He’d managed to knock the wipes out of the cabinet, so clean up is easy and lazy. Poe’s a back sleeper, so Finn curls around him, head resting on Poe’s ribs, a dopey smile on his face.

“Hey,” Fin says, fucked-out and giddy, “thanks for walking me home.” Poe laughs and runs his fingers through Finn’s hair, scratching along his scalp.

“Anytime,” he says, deeply content with everything for the moment, sleep curling in along the edges. “That’s all any of us are really doing in this life anyways, right? Just…walking each other home.”

 

**EPILOGUE:**

Poe wakes up with Finn in his arms. He’s pretty sure he has two arms—one of them is numb, on account of the entirety of Finn’s weight being on it for a few hours, but Poe can’t bring himself to move. Finn looks sweet and relaxed, his eyes closed.

And then his stomach rumbles so loudly it echoes in the room.

His eyes are still closed, but there’s a wrinkle between his eyes, and his lips are pressed together.

Poe bursts out laughing. Finn whines and buries his face against Poe’s chest.

“Come on, there’s food at the Tree.” 

They’re both somewhat reluctant to leave their warm nest of blankets, but Poe’s stomach develops sympathy grumbles, so they help each other get dressed, and it takes a while with all the touches and kisses they sneak in.

Finn gets kidnapped by Poe’s 12 year old cousin again, so Poe’s left leaning against a root, watching Finn learn to play with the kids.

“Hey!” Rey appears beside him, chipper and grinning.

“Hey yourself. Enjoy the party?”

“It was great! You?” Poe can’t help the thoughts that flash through his head.

“Best one yet.” Rey’s giving him a knowing smile; Poe wonders what she’s picking up from him, and moreover, what she actually _knows._

“Uh huh.” She leans over and plants a kiss on Poe’s lips, sure and direct, undeniably interested but not presumptuous. Kind of…perfect, as an opening statement of intent. “We’ll have to compare party tricks sometime.”

Poe’s left blinking and poleaxed when Rey charges off to jump on Finn’s back, effectively immobilizing him and allowing the hoard of children he’s been keeping at bay to swarm over him, taking him down to the ground.

Well _that’s_ an interesting development.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head Canon Expansion Time for my own fic!
> 
> Poe, weirdly, has only slept with women in the context of a triumvirate. It's not something he plans or anything, that's just...how it's happened, every time. It works for him/them, so he's not too worried about it. 
> 
> Rey has an open invitation to join Foe at her leisure; she takes them up on it from time to time, but largely has other pressing concerns in her life, like learning to Jedi good and kicking Kylo Ren’s ass and becoming a better pilot than Poe. (If she ever decides to reproduce, she’s decided she's doing it with/for Foe, who will be the primary caregivers because Rey doesn't have time to commit to that full time, but there’s no one else in this world she wants to have kids with/for, and they will be great Dads when they're ready.)
> 
> Leia is the Troll Lord, and Rey is her Apprentice.


	5. Random Deleted Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was initially a transition scene when chapters 3 and 4 were the same, but it became unnecessary with the split/didn't really...fit with the flow of the story so here, have a bonus scene.

Poe may have slept most of the day away, and then spent a couple of hours with Rey and Finn having a crisis of conscience before Rey pointed out he is still the best damned pilot in the Universe (after her), but he doesn’t have time to disabuse her of that misconception at the moment as he still has a couple of duties to perform before muster tomorrow.

One is swinging by medical and getting an update on his crew’s health situation, which thankfully turns out to be all good news; Nien Nunb had fractured one of his jowls over Starkiller and was finally cleared for full duty. Blue also has a rotating Blue spot to fill—rest quiet, Ello Asty—which means he’s got a stack of jackets to get thru and pilots to interview at some point.

“And how’s Finn?” he asks offhand. The doctor gives him a level look.

“We don’t just give out people’s private medical information, son.”

“Well good, I’d be worried if you did,” Poe says, crossing his arms and projecting “I’m a Commander” at the man, “but I’m Poe Dameron.” The last time Poe got into a stare off he was eight and he lost because Tenctonese don’t have eyelids. This feels a lot like that, but Poe’s learned patience in the interim, and he’s stubborn as the day is long when he needs to be, so eventually the doctor gives an irritated huff and scrolls through Finn’s records.

“Sir, Mr. Finn is a civilian, which means we can only allow family and next of kin to receive…updates…” Poe smirks at the guy. “I’m sorry, didn’t realize you two were married. Kind of sudden.” What?

“What?” Poe snatches the pad away and there under “Kin Relations” someone has listed him under ‘husband.’ His first thought is General Organa being funny, but he doesn’t think she’d go so far as to change official records. He pulls up the edit log and sees that one of these things is not like the others: amongst all the medical personnel is Le-Lak’s login, one of Red squadron’s pilots, which means his…whatever Rohtul is to him, their relationship has more plot twists than a Rodian soap opera—point is, Rohtul’s the real culprit here and notorious for his on-base pranks, Le-Lak’s notorious for never safeguarding his log-in keys, and Red is currently his least favorite squadron.

“I’m resigning my commission,” he announces, thrusting the tablet at the doctor.

“Do you want that update before or after? Sir?”

\---

At muster the next morning he gives the entirety of Red 500 smiley-frownies before breakfast, and to ask Rohtul why messing with official medical records is inadvisable. At which point Le-Lak steps up and admits that, for once, it was actually him, so Poe gives him an extra 300. (Judging by the look Le’s getting from Roh, they’re very much in a ‘fucking’ stage of their courtship.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's Make a Deal: if you can list the stupid number of pop culture references I sprinkled thru this fic, I'll write you a prompt of your choosing...


End file.
